


The Butchers Of Beacon Hills

by rainsoakedshoes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Top Derek Hale, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, implied blood play, serial killers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsoakedshoes/pseuds/rainsoakedshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dubbed "The Beacon Hills Ripper" and "The Slasher of Beacon Hills" respectively two serial killers are stalking and killing members of the Beacon Hills community. Both Killers are fascinated with each other and begin to leave "gifts" for each other after each of their kills. They are both formidable in their own rights but together they are damn near unstoppable. </p><p>***</p><p>“I was hoping we’d get a chance to meet,” Derek told him.<br/>“You’re The Slasher,” the young man said, surprised.<br/>“And you’re The Ripper.”<br/>“Stiles,” The other man said moving his blade away from Derek. “My name is Stiles.”<br/>“Derek.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butchers Of Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Биконхиллзские Палачи](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824497) by [ElasticLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticLove/pseuds/ElasticLove)



It had taken three bodies turning up in different parts of town for the police to connect the murders.

Stiles wasn’t surprised when the murders were connected though, his MO and signature, while not necessarily unique, were consistent.

The papers were calling him _‘The Beacon Hills Ripper’_. An unknown terror stalking the streets and preying on those who were unlucky enough to be out alone.

Stiles was unassuming; at barely nineteen he was tall and lanky, he moved with little grace when other people were around, his smile and bright eyes lulled people into a false sense of security, he appeared thinner and weaker than he was. He looked more like a victim than a killer.

Although it was hard to tell _who_ was going to be a victim. None of Stiles’ had shared many traits at all.

Out of the three so far two were women, one man. One Asian, one white, one black. One married, one single, one divorced. Two gay, one straight.

In fact the only thing the police could tell that the victims had in common was that they all lived in Beacon Hills.

Stiles knew better than that though.

He knew that all three had made the mistake of underestimating him.

After is fourth kill Stiles decided to lie low for a while. To take a break until the urges got too bad, until he was unable to sleep and his skin felt too tight, until all he could think about was sinking the knife into someone and watching the life leave their eyes.

Everything was quiet for a week, there were no leads, no witnesses, no DNA or other trace evidence, and the police investigation was lagging.

Nine days into Stiles’ mini hiatus a fifth body showed up.

It wasn’t one of his and the police were quick to deny that it was another victim of The Ripper. This victim’s throat was slashed, they weren’t eviscerated.

Stiles wasn’t overly interested, murders happened all the time and this one looked like it could have been a robbery or a rape attempt that turned into a murder.

Then another body showed up three days later. This one had a message left with it.

It wasn’t a letter or a calling card, it wasn’t something the police could decipher, but it was a message nonetheless.

It was a message for Stiles.

When Stiles saw the police report lying on his fathers’ desk it felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

_“…a box cutter blade was found in the victims’ mouth.”_

A box cutter was Stiles’ weapon of choice, common and untraceable. The police had released the nature of the murder weapon after the second body with the same kind of wounds had turned up.

There was another killer out there who had left Stiles a message and a gift.

Of course Stiles had to repay them.

***

In his downtown loft Derek Hale settled down on his couch with a cup of black coffee and his laptop. All of the newspaper sites were talking about a body that had been found over night; it looked like the work of The Beacon Hills Ripper.

Derek took a sip and clicked on a link to view the full story.

It wasn’t until halfway down the page that he became really interested.

_“…sources inside the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department say that a brand new neck tie was found on the woman’s body. It was tied around her neck and appeared to have been placed there after she was killed.”_

Derek’s lips curled up into a smile at the twisted humour.

Apparently The Ripper had seen his gift.

He wondered how, since no one had leaked that piece of information to the press yet.

Maybe it was somebody inside the police department. Derek grinned. Now wouldn’t that be something?

Derek checked Facebook and saw the notification telling him it was a co-workers birthday. Derek clicked on the man’s page to leave a public message.

**_Happy birthday Luke, don’t work too hard and have a good one!_ **

Derek played his part well.

The rest of his newsfeed was status’ talking about “these terrible murders”. People were worrying, they were criticizing the police for allowing _two_ killers to be on the loose, they were wishing each other well and sharing tips on how to stay safe. They were scared.

No. They had been scared when just one killer was out there, now that there were two they were _terrified._

Thanks to him and the other unknown killer the entire town was in panic. A feeling similar to glee bubbled in Derek’s chest.

He clicked back over to the news pages and scoured the articles for details. So far all they knew about the victim was that it was a woman, which meant that the police hadn’t identified her or they had yet to inform next of kin. Derek wondered how The Ripper was choosing his victims, they were all over the map; literally and metaphorically. He hadn’t hit the same part of town twice and his victims were from different demographics. The Ripper was methodical in his killings and it wouldn’t surprise Derek to learn that The Ripper had gotten away with more murders than the papers were attributing to him.

One article told Derek that the woman had been killed the same way was all of The Ripper’s other victims. That meant evisceration. 

The Ripper had to be strong enough to subdue his victims since there was no evidence of blitz attacks or drugs. Derek knew it couldn’t be easy to disembowel someone with a box cutter. It could take a while to bleed out from those wounds, and it would _hurt_. Derek hadn’t seen any crime scene photos but there would have been blood everywhere, the corpse and The Ripper would have been covered in it.

Derek was hard just thinking about it.

***

Stiles tapped his finger against his bottom teeth and waited.

The other killer, who the media had nicknamed _‘The Slasher of Beacon Hills’_ , had killed a week ago which meant it was Stiles’ turn.

Over the past few kills the two murderers had fallen into a routine, taking turns killing and leaving their gifts at each murder. For Stiles leaving the neck tie had become almost as important as his original signature of leaving his victims face down in the dirt.

A blonde woman hurried past on the deserted road and Stiles smiled. She looked just like The Slasher’s second victim, the one who’d had the first blade in her mouth. She was perfect.

Stiles started after her.

“Excuse me!” He called out.

The woman jumped and clutched her bag tighter to her before she turned around. Her eyes were wide with worry but her face softened when she saw Stiles.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Stiles told her.

“It’s okay,” her blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “I’m just a little on edge because of all the murders that have been in the papers, you know.”

Stiles nodded in mock understanding. She should be wary of any stranger approaching her on the street but she let her guard down because Stiles didn’t look like a threat. That was her mistake.

“I was wondering if you could tell me where Granger Street is?” Stiles asked. “I think I’m lost.”

“Sure,” the woman smiled and pointed down the road.

Before she could give any directions Stiles had his hand over her mouth and was pushing her back into the alleyway.

He was fast and strong and she wasn’t expecting the attack. By the time she was aware enough of the situation Stiles already had his knife pressed to her throat and was shushing her.

“Do what I say and you’ll be okay.”

There was a small flicker of relief in her eyes as Stiles moved his knife away from her neck. Then he pressed the blade against her stomach and she started begging, her words muffled by against the smooth leather of the gloves he was wearing.

The grin Stiles gave her when he made the first cut was feral, unhinged. Her blood washed over his hands making the knife slippery, but Stiles held tight and dug the small blade in harder, twisting it. Tears were streaming down her face and her body was convulsing from the pain, she tried to push him away but Stiles was in control.

When it was over her lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud and Stiles licked some of the blood off of the gloves, savouring the taste of the leather and blood. He wiped his hands on the back of the woman’s dress to remove the excess blood then shrugged his back pack off his shoulders. He pulled the neck tie out of the bag; it was cheap nylon, the kind of tie that came in packs of three or four and had garish patterns and prints on them, he’d brought it with cash two towns over.

The tie he had chosen was black with a pattern of small red hearts. It seemed like an appropriate gift seeing as it was Valentines’ Day.

He slid the material around the woman’s neck and tied a perfect knot. Once he was done he rolled the woman over so she was face down. He was right; she had been the perfect choice.

Stiles only took a few moments to appreciate the sight of her like that, he knew he didn’t have much time. 

Later he would come hard, biting down on the leather of his gloves.

***

The news reported on the most recent neck tie design which had delighted Derek. He appreciated The Rippers’ twisted sense of humour. His Valentines’ Day gift for The Ripper was a few days late but he knew his small addition would be more than enough to make up for it.

***

It was the first time The Slasher had mutilated a body post mortem. The police called the heart shape carved into the victims’ stomach an _‘escalation’_.

Stiles couldn’t stop smiling about it.

***

“What the hell is with the hearts?!” The Sheriff demanded one night. The police had been pretty sure the blades and ties were meant to acknowledge the other killer, but after the matching hearts their suspicions had been basically confirmed.

Stiles made a noncommittal noise from his place by the stove. It was the one night a week that Stiles came home for dinner, it was all part of his act; playing the loving son making sure his dad was eating right.

It had been a long time since Stiles had needed to beg his dad for details of ongoing cases. As Stiles had gotten older the sheriff had loosened up; Stiles was pretty sure his dad was just happy to have another sounding board for his ideas on the case, so Stiles always knew exactly what the cops knew.

“Do they know each other?” The Sheriff shuffled through crime scene photos. “Are they in love?”

Stiles shrugged.

He didn’t know about _love_. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling love, not really, not how other people did. However he did think that he and The Slasher did have a connection, these gifts showed that they understood each other, that they weren’t alone.

“Do you have any leads?” Stiles asked. He was simply making conversation about the case his dad was working on like usual. The Sheriff had no reason to suspect darker motives.

The Sheriff shook his head and sighed. “A witness came forward for the last Slasher murder but they could only give a vague description of a man wearing a leather jacket; nothing has panned out.”

“What about The Ripper?”

“Witnesses think they saw someone hanging around the same area as the woman who was found on Valentines’ Day, but they couldn’t give a solid description. Some say he was early twenties, others say mid-thirties, one claimed he was wearing a hoodie, another said he was in a suit jacket.”

That was what Stiles counted on, being a forgettable figure. Although he didn’t know how he felt about that mid-thirties part.

Stiles turned to the table to make sure there was room for him to start dishing up dinner and froze in his place. The Sheriff had photos of their valentines laid out side by side. Stiles’ eyes darted back and forth between two of the photos, his mouth dry. Their matching blondes were both lying on their backs (an officer must have moved Stiles’) so the extent of their injuries could be seen. The tie around Stiles’ victim looked like a noose, the small red hearts matching the dried blood all over the front of the victim. The Slashers’ victim had a deep cut across her throat, a pool of blood below her, and her shirt had been ripped open so the heart carved into her stomach was on display.

Stiles’ pulse quickened and it was as if he could feel the blade cutting through the skin, fat, and muscle of the blonde all over again.

“Sorry!” The Sheriff said suddenly, covering the photos. “These aren’t really appropriate to be looking at just before dinner.”

Stiles swallowed thickly and forced himself to blink.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice slightly hoarse.

Stiles was on autopilot for the rest of the night. Of course he knew The Slashers’ victim had been a blonde woman as well, but seeing them side by side like that had made something inside of Stiles click.

He needed to find a way to meet The Slasher in person.

***

It’s an unusually warm afternoon so Derek wasn’t the only one in the park. He was people watching, not hunting, not tonight. It was The Rippers’ turn.

Derek smiled the same way he always did whenever he thought about the fact that he and The Ripper were taking turns terrorizing the fine citizens of Beacon Hills. Normally he wouldn’t let anything stop him from killing when he wanted to kill, but for the time being he was happy enough to sit back and see what his next gift was going to be.

The last one had been a young Asian man, 21 years old. The media had released his photo the day after the body had turned up; he sure had been a pretty one. Not for the first time Derek wished he had access to the crime scene photos.

In return Derek had given The Ripper a beautiful black woman whose smile had reminded him of Kate; all soft curves and sharp teeth. He’d left the blade for The Ripper jutting out of the wound in her neck.

The police were claiming he was escalating but that wasn’t the truth. Back in New York he’d carved up his victims but after moving to Beacon Hills Derek had decided a new MO would be a good idea. It had been easy enough for him to get into slashing their throats; his method was never a defining factor for him, it was always about the type of women he chose.

For the third time in half an hour Derek noticed a young man pass him.

The first time Derek had assumed the kid was just passing by. The second time he wondered if he was lost. Now Derek was wondering if the kid was up to something.

They weren’t in the best neighbourhood and Derek had seen several drug deals go down. Derek eyed the young man, he appeared to be in his early twenties and was now paying close attention to a woman who was rummaging through her bag.

Maybe he was a mugger Derek reasoned. Or maybe a rapist. All kinds of crime were on the rise in Beacon Hills.

Derek decided he’d had enough fun people watching for the day, it was getting dark and soon enough almost everyone would be off the streets. Not that he had any reason to fear being out after dark.

Out of the corner of his eye Derek noticed the young man start to trail him. Derek put his hands in the pockets of his jacket; his fingers curling around the handle of his blade. He was bigger than the college aged kid following him but Derek could read people. He knew the baggy clothes and slumped shoulders hid a strong body. Derek wasn’t going to take any chances.

A brief thought flitted across Derek’s mind.

_What if this boy was The Ripper?_

He knew the chances of that were slim and he didn’t want to get his hopes up, even if he wanted to meet The Ripper almost as much as he wanted to kill. 

“Excuse me?” The young man called out. He was only a few feet behind Derek now.

Derek turned quickly, grabbed the young man by his collar, and slammed him against the wall of the building they were passing. Derek pressed his knife to the other mans’ throat and watched his eyes go wide, but it wasn’t fear that Derek saw.

The young man grinned up at Derek then there was a blade pressing against Derek’s stomach through his t-shirt. Derek glanced down and saw the box cutter grasped in the other mans’ hand. Derek didn’t lessen his grip on the man but he did return the grin.

“I was hoping we’d get a chance to meet,” Derek told him.

“You’re The Slasher,” the young man said, surprised.

“And you’re The Ripper.”

“Stiles,” The other man said moving his blade away from Derek. “My name is Stiles.”

“Derek.”

Derek pulled his own knife away and took a step back. There was a thin trail of blood running down the side of Stiles’ neck from where Derek had nicked him. Stiles brought his fingers up to the cut, when he pulled them away they were shiny with his blood. He made a show of licking his fingers clean while Derek looked on.

“How do I really know it’s you?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you have access to the police reports?” Derek knew revealing something the media didn’t know was the only way to convince Stiles.

Stiles nodded. “My dad is the Sheriff, I’ve seen all the crime scene photos and reports.”

The Sheriff’s son, to Derek that was even better than The Ripper being a cop.

“The last girl I gave you had a tattoo on her collarbone,” Derek told him. “I saw it when her shirt ripped during the struggle.”

“Do you want to double check if I am who I say I am?” Stiles fiddled with the box cutter in his hands.

“If you’re who you say you are and you were out hunting tonight you should have my gift with you.”

Stiles chuckled and pulled his back pack off, he unzipped it and pulled the tie out. It was black with green stripes and Stiles was pleased that it matched Derek’s hair and eyes.

“You always kill sooner when the media reports it was a striped tie, except for when I left you the valentine, you killed quicker than usual after that one.”

It was a small reassurance but it was enough for Derek.

“Can I?” Stiles asked, holding the neck tie out to Derek.

Derek nodded.

The tie was rough nylon but it felt like silk as Stiles slid it around Derek’s neck. With nimble fingers Stiles tied the knot and started to tighten it. When he tightened the tie more than necessary Derek’s eyes went dark with lust.

Stiles pulled Derek closer to him so their lips were barely an inch apart.

“Tell me you live nearby,” Stiles whispered, his breath ghosting across Derek’s face.

Derek nodded and kissed Stiles hard.

***

Stiles tugged on the tie as he rode Derek. He kept the tie taught, not tight enough to completely cut off Derek’s airway but tight enough that Derek had to gasp and struggle for breath.

Derek’s fingers dug painfully into Stiles’ hips while Stiles moved up and down; slamming himself down on Derek’s cock as hard as he could.

There were hickeys blooming on Stiles’ chest, and his nipples were still red and over sensitive from where Derek had sucked, licked, bit, and rubbed his stubble across them until Stiles had been begging for Derek’s cock.

“I was so looking forward to killing you,” Stiles admitted, breathing heavily.

Derek groaned, his lungs burned and he knew his neck would be bruised in the morning, but it was worth it.

“I was sure you were going to be challenge, that you’d struggle and try to fight me,” Stiles continued. “Following you out of the park all I could think about was your blood soaking your clothes,” Stiles’ breath hitched when the head of Derek’s cock hit his prostate. “I couldn’t wait to hear your cries of pain muffled by my hand as you fought for your life. I was already getting hard thinking about the fear in your eyes when you knew I had you beat.”

Stiles looked down at Derek, his pupils were blown wide and Stiles could see nothing but want in them.

“I saw you in the park,” Derek told him, voice hoarse. “Everyone ignored you, but I saw you. I knew you were up to something. That’s why I had my knife ready,” Stiles’ eyes fell shut and he moaned loudly so Derek kept talking even though he could barely draw breath. “When you followed me I knew, I knew you could be dangerous, and I was ready to get you before you got me.”

Stiles came, spilling out over his hand and onto Derek’s stomach. Stiles clenched down around Derek’s cock and pulled tighter on the tie. Derek’s vision started to go black at the edges and his mouth hung open, unable to take in any air. Derek came in Stiles, the younger man moaning on top of him and sounding miles away.

Derek came to less than a minute later to find Stiles sitting on his chest grinning down at him.

“Hey,” Derek said, voice still gravely and sore.

“Hey,” Stiles echoed.

Stiles had loosened the tie and Derek brought his hand up to touch the tender skin.  

“You might want to start thinking of way to explain the bruises,” Stiles chuckled.

“Good point, I don’t think telling people I had amazing choke sex with a serial killer will go down too well.”

Stiles laughed properly this time and Derek decided he liked hearing Stiles laugh almost as much as he liked hearing him beg and moan. Almost. Derek tugged on Stiles’ waist and Stiles understood the unspoken command; he slid down off Derek’s chest and curled up next to Derek. Stiles wrapped the end of the tie around his fist but didn’t tighten it again or pull on it, just rested his hand on the centre of Derek’s chest.

They lay in silence for a while, resting after the intensity of the night. The revelation that they had finally found each other sinking in.

“I want to kill with you,” Stiles said as the sun began to rise and the dark room became lighter. “I know we both have our own… _things_ we need to have a successful kill, but I think it could work.”

“I’ve wanted to see you in action since you left me that first neck tie,” Derek admitted. “We’ll make it work.”

***

Both Derek and Stiles had needed to open up more than they ever had before in order to find a way to make it work. Both of them admitted things that they had never said out loud before, things they tried not to think about.

Stiles was the first person Derek had told about Kate. About the woman who had her own psychopathic tendencies and had seen right into Derek’s soul and recognised the darkness there. He talked about how she had used him to kill people, how he had been the tool and she reaped the rewards; literal and metaphorical rewards as Derek had come to learn. She had been using him to kill people and then collect the bounties on their heads. Stiles had been quietly impressed by Kate’s brazenness but had still suggested they hunt Kate down and give her what she deserved. He had kissed Derek hard when Derek admitted that Kate was long dead.

Derek nodded with understanding while Stiles talked about being ignored and underappreciated. How people always dismissed him as a hyperactive little shit with no filter even though Stiles was smarter than any of them. He told Derek about his first kill, Jackson Whittemore, a boy in his grade who had mocked Stiles relentlessly; he’d made it look like an accident so even though he was the last one to see him alive no one thought he could possibly have anything to do with it, which had just made him even madder. Stiles admitted that it sounded ridiculous saying it out loud, but Derek had reassured him that it wasn’t ridiculous at all.

_“You’ve been outsmarting the entire police department for months now, anyone who doesn’t see how smart and dangerous you are deserves what they get.”_

In the end they decided to go hunting together (Stiles had called it ‘shopping’ and Derek had rolled his eyes but kissed Stiles anyway).

They walked through the same park they had met in, holding hands and smiling like any normal couple. Both Stiles and Derek’s friends knew that they were interested in men, so if they did happen to come across anyone they knew, they could explain they had been keeping their relationship secret. Thankfully though neither of them saw any familiar faces.

Stiles had pointed out three or four women to Derek, asking each time if they were right, but Derek had shaken his head.

“It’s okay, we can come back tomorrow if we don’t find someone tonight,” Stiles told him.

Truth be told both of them were getting restless, the need to kill rising inside of them; but both were still in control enough that they weren’t going to go off the deep end and kill the first person they came across.

“Her,” Derek had said just as the sun was going down, nodding at a woman walking past.

He didn’t offer up any explanation as to why this woman was the one, in Stiles’ opinion she looked just like any other 30 year old white woman, but Stiles didn’t argue.

The woman was texting when she walked past and didn’t notice Derek and Stiles so Stiles slipped his hand out of Derek’s and followed after her.

“Excuse me?” Stiles decided to stick to his usual ruse.

The woman looked at him as though he was something she had stepped in. “What?”

“Sorry,” Stiles ducked his head, playing the part of embarrassed college student. “I think I’m lost. Do you know where Hindley Parade is?”

The woman scoffed and pointed back the way she had come. “It’s one street that way. There’s a massive sign saying ‘ _Hindley Parade_ ’.”

She turned on heel and stalked away from Stiles before he had a chance to say anything else, her heels clicking obnoxiously on the sidewalk.

Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek and nodded.

The two men trailed her out of the park, Derek ahead of Stiles. The woman didn’t notice either of them following her.

At a set of traffic lights Derek caught up with her, he smiled at her and started to flirt. It was thrilling how easy it was to lure women into his trap. There were killers stalking the dark streets yet women still let their guards down all because he had a pretty face.

Stiles watched from a distance as Derek talked and laughed with the woman, his heart beating rapidly knowing what they were about to do to her. She didn’t pull away when Derek put his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t notice Derek look back over his shoulder and nod to Stiles. She didn’t see the attack coming until it was too late to scream for help.

Derek already had her pinned to the wall by the time Stiles joined them in the small alley Derek had dragged the woman down. Derek had his hand over her mouth and was waving his knife in front of her face.

The woman looked at stiles, her eyes wet with tears and silently begging him to help her. She closed her eyes tight and her screams were muffled by Derek’s gloved hand when she saw that Stiles had a knife of his own.

“Shh, shh, shh, you’ll be okay,” Derek said.

Stiles was a solid wall of heat pressed up against Derek’s side. The woman cried out again and Derek looked down to see Stiles’ blade pressing into her stomach; her blood soaking her thin blouse.

“Stupid bitch,” Stiles hissed, dragging his blade up her stomach and feeling her shudder in pain under them.

“You ready?” Derek asked after Stiles had made a few more cuts.

Stiles nodded.

Both of them were practically vibrating from the thrill. The two men were pressed as close to each other as they could be.

Derek brought his knife up to her neck and with one, swift, strong cut he slit her throat. Stiles let out a surprised bark of laughter when an arterial spray left their faces covered in her blood.

Their blood slicked lips slotted together as the woman’s lifeless body landed on the ground at their feet. Both men were shaking from the adrenaline and gripping each other tight.

They left her lying face down, a silver and blue tie around her neck and a box cutter blade in her mouth. They decided it was the last time the police would see the neck tie and blade left on bodies; they had found each other and had no need to leave gifts anymore.

Derek fucked Stiles on the floor of his loft just inside the front door. When they came it was over the bloodstains on their clothes.

***

“ _THE BUTCHERS OF BEACON HILLS”_

The online news headlines screamed the next day.

(Stiles had appreciated the alliteration.)

“ _Murderous duo team up”_

The six o’clock news allocated a full half hour to discussing the crimes.

(Derek and Stiles had sat on Derek’s couch and corrected everything the anchors reported.)

_“Serial Killers in Love”_

The following Sunday there was an hour and a half news special interviewing police, victims’ families, and behavioural experts.

(Stiles had come down Derek’s throat while an ‘expert’ talked about the possibility The Ripper stabbed people because he was impotent. Derek had fucked Stiles raw while the mother of a Slasher victim cried about her dead daughter.)

***

“Beacon Hills is starting to get boring,” Stiles said.

He was stretched out on Derek’s couch, looking out the large windows across the city. Both he and Derek were naked, bruises matching the shape of Derek’s fingers were blooming on the pale skin of Stiles’ neck and Derek was treating several small cuts Stiles had made on his chest and stomach.

“You know I’ve never even been out of the state?” Stiles mused, mostly to himself. “We should go on a road trip.”

“A road trip?” Derek raised his eyebrows.

Stiles nodded, a grin spreading across his face.

“I mean ‘ _The Butchers of Beacon Hills’_ is fine, but how does _‘The Manhattan Murderers’_ sound?”

“I moved here from Brooklyn, going back to New York City so soon might raise questions.” Derek shook his head.

“Hmm,” Stiles sat up and crossed his legs. “What about ‘ _The Portland Predators’_ or ‘ _The Kansas City Killers’_?”

“I like the idea of a road trip,” Derek said.

“Too bad we have no money,” Stiles shrugged.

“Speak for yourself,” Derek scoffed, thumping down onto the couch next to Stiles. “My family is loaded.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, leaning in for a kiss.

“I only work to seem more normal,” Derek told the younger man. “I don’t have to work if I don’t want to.”

“I keep finding more reasons to like you,” Stiles smiled against Derek’s collarbone. “First you kill people too, then you let me slice you up, and now I find out you’re rich. I’m never letting you go.”

Derek grabbed Stiles around the waist and pulled him closer so Stiles was half sitting in Derek’s lap.

“You say that as if _I'd_ let _you_ go,” Derek whispered harshly in Stiles’ ear. “You’re mine.”

Stiles tangled his hand in Derek’s hair and tugged on the short locks sharply. “And you’re mine.”

“How does _‘The Huston Hunters’_ sound?” Derek trailed his hand down Stiles’ stomach towards his cock.

Stiles arched into Derek’s touch. “Perfect,” he gasped.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://heavenlyhale.tumblr.com/)


End file.
